


Let Him Eat Cake

by NotIshimaru



Category: 18th Century CE RPF
Genre: Historical References, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secret Relationship, hand kiss, romantic dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29059482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotIshimaru/pseuds/NotIshimaru
Summary: This is just Jeffmads where they're sitting around being secret, gay politicians. In the beginning of 1790 or end of 1789. They are just vibing and eating dinner.
Relationships: Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Let Him Eat Cake

James Madison sat a seat away from the current Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson. His friend, closest confidant, and most reasonable ginger in Washington's cabinet. It had been a while since the two were able to dine together, as Thomas had just recently wrapped up his duties as ambassador to France. Five years away from his home state in Virginia. James wondered how he could be parted from his roots for so long.

James wondered, until he saw the way Thomas' hazel eyes gazed down upon the glass of wine in his hand. The hypnotic movements of Thomas' wrist as he swirled the translucent, red liquid in the glass. James could tell that the adoration of France and its bounties resonated in Thomas, and that he'd be one to give up his American roots if it meant luxury. Thomas was so entranced in European art and literature, yet never showed the sensibility to understand it fully.

A shame, truly. But James need not be reminded of Thomas' otherworldly wants, as Thomas was now within an arm's reach of him. The smaller man was grateful of Thomas' presence for the past few weeks, and so was Thomas appreciative of James' attention. So appreciative; in fact, Thomas had beckoned James to stay with him in Monticello for the first week of January. Until the Address made by Washington, which moved both southerners up north to New York.

And now they were back. Quite inseparable. If James were to stay overnight, he'd be teetering on two weeks living with Thomas. It's not like either of them had a lady to attend to, so the prospect of them spending this much time together wasn't as scandalous as previously thought. Still, James couldn't shake the growing nervousness with each passing minute at the table. Waiting to be excused. To think.

"Sir," Thomas closed his eyes and sat back in his chair, back moulded to the soft pillow he'd laid on top of the hard oak. He took a deep breath in, then rested a hand on the table, eyes peeking open to the one other person seated.  
"Your company is always valued here, in spades, might I add." Thomas stalled, fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table.

James knew what was coming. He'd be asked to pack his bags and journey up to the capitol buildings, or back home, or even up to House Trist. Anywhere but here. If Thomas was going to excuse him, it didn't surprise James in the slightest that Thomas was going to go the most passive way of doing it. He'd always struggled with finding his words, lest they be on parchment.

Thomas put his glass of wine down, finger trailing along the rim of it idly. As Thomas’ eyes adverted from James, and James felt a pressure to continue the conversation. He couldn't, though, and resorted to picking at a handkerchief from his frock coat’s pocket, his nimble fingers pulling the poor piece of fabric into threads. 

“Despite your warm presence, I can't help but wish there was more of you around.” Thomas admitted, sparing a glance at James. James could feel the dull eyes on him, and met them with his own blue eyes. They were as light as a morning’s sky and shone with interest. James needn't ask what Thomas meant, as Thomas continued.

“It would fill me with pleasure to have you spend another week with me. Here. Less for politicks, and more for our friendship.” Thomas brought up the topic of his and James’ friendship directly, smiling sheepishly with his offer. The two were close, and shared a few intimate moments together before Thomas sailed off for France. 

Ever since Thomas had been back, though, James hadn't received the sort of tender feelings shared before the trip. It was like Thomas had lost interest. But this proposal reminded James of their shared affection. A shy smirk quirked up on James’ thin lips, previous anxieties melting away. James pulled the handkerchief out from under the table and tucked it away, sighing.

“The sentiment is shared. My only worries reside in our work: will it be alright if I stay away from Congress for so long?” James asked, not wanting to cause trouble by being absent. He wasn't one to flander or flake out for personal reasons, being a bachelor and a scholar, his work was priority. With Thomas in his life again, though, James found himself indulging in Thomas’ company again. 

Thomas sucked a deep breath in, a hand brought up to his face as he thought. His arm was propped up on the arm of his chair, body leaning into the support. James watched the gears in his head turn brilliantly. Finally, Thomas spoke.

“On your way up to New York, you suffered a severe case of dysentery. The ailment caused your trip to be postponed by a week.” Thomas’ face grew somewhat smug, as he smiled behind his hand.  
“Or more, depending.” Thomas added.

“Aren't you so wicked, Thomas?” James joked, hands resting on the dining table. It was set for their luncheon, but beverages were only present. James reached for his untouched glass of wine, but was stopped by Thomas’ spotted, freckled hand on his own. 

James' eyes curiously followed up Thomas’ arm, locking eyes with the other man. He wanted to question the sudden touch, but stayed quiet, waiting for Thomas’ explanation. While observant, James wasn't quite equipped to figure out what this affectionate gesture meant.

Thomas’ fingers forced their way in between James’ own, the two now bound together by their hands. The room was awfully quiet, the only sounds seeping in were the steps of servants in the halls, or birds chirping outside. It was almost serene. James missed this so much, he only wondered why Thomas had waited so long to resume their relationship.

Relationship, in general terms, that is. James couldn't quite place what Thomas and him were. Friends? Most definitely. Companions? Yes. Lovers? Possibly. It was impossible for two men to share any sort of intimacy outside of their own homes, and it was greatly looked down upon. Even if they were in love, it's not as if they could express that. 

“Dear sir,” Thomas’ thumb rubbed into the back of James’ hand. Thomas’ hand was cold, and his frigid digits weren't pleasant, but James found a certain familiarity with them. A comforting presence.  
“I’ve wished to be this close for quite a long time. Will you return affections for the remainder of your stay?” Thomas asked, leaning forward.

James swallowed his breath, feeling a wave of goosebumps ride through his arms and legs. His eyes darted between his hand and Thomas’ face; processing information.

“Yes, sir.” James finally agreed, attempting to pull his thin frame closer to the table; therefore, closer to Thomas. Thomas’ other hand clasped over James’ exposed fingers, and he scooted forward as well. He placed a gentle kiss onto James’ pale hand, then let it go, sitting back.

James didn't have much time to let the kiss resonate, but he didn't mind. He knew Thomas had to be cautious of peering eyes around his mansion, or cautious of his own emotions. It wouldn't be too taboo to think that Thomas would have escalated their situation. James could recall a few times in which he had to keep Thomas at bay and calm him, in fear of being caught somewhere salacious.

—

The two sat for a while, until their meals were delivered. The bottle of wine was brought to the table, and Jefferson took up the responsibility of refilling his and James’ glasses. A few glasses of wine and friendly conversations wasn't enough, though, as it was accompanied by a truly copious amount of food. All with an evident European influence, as expected.

Thomas readily urged James to eat, directing servants to fill his plate with a piece of everything. Before James’ eyes was a large plate, piled on with what Thomas called daube de bœuf, or en anglais, braised beef. Accompanying the beef was a thick blanket of vegetables, drowned completely in some thick sauce. Thomas also had it arranged that there'd be a tray of walnuts and berries in between them, which Thomas took full advantage in snacking on. 

“This is quite a lot, no?” James laughed out, not used to the proportions Thomas had set out for him. He hadn't even offered a proper salad, and yet his plate was full of tender, juicy meats and doused vegetables. It was not in James’ right to complain about this, as he'd begun in eating as delicately as possible, showing appreciation for the food and Thomas’ hospitality. He still couldn't help but beg the question of why.

“Do you think me to be someone who doesn't understand you, James? You will be sated with this meal.” Thomas commented passively, pale fingers rummaging through the dish of berries; completely ignoring his plat du principal-- or, main dish. He watched James with a hum, shifting in his seat.

“You know, I had the pleasure of befriending many women while in France.” Thomas changed the subject, causing James’ eyes to drift up from his food. James hesitated in eating while Thomas was speaking, preferring to give his full attention to the head of the table. His attention wasn't needed in full, though, as Thomas gestured with his hand for James to continue what he was doing. 

“Those women were much different than the English maidens I've become accustomed to. You know, her, and her lithe structure.” The taller rolled a blueberry between his index and thumb as he spoke, voice consistent and somewhat hushed. It made sense, Thomas was describing women, it's not as if he needed to boast in the presence of his friend. James knew well what Thomas was able to achieve in that field.

“In Europe, I found that the women were more voluptuous. Prospered. And that their plates looked like these, except avec gâteaux, aussi.” Thomas took every chance he could to stray from his native tongue and speak French. It's not as if James didn't understand, it was more than common for any social class to speak more than just English. Latin, Greek, Spanish, and German were all very crucial languages to know, for a scholar or-- better yet-- international ambassador. 

Still was annoying, though. 

“Right, cake, you mean.” James sipped some of his wine, cringing subtly from its acidic taste. On occasion, James has complained about Thomas’ wines, but it seems like Thomas chooses to forget to arrange different drinks for him. Thomas rolled his eyes at James’ correction, continuing with the same arrogant energy. As if he were instructing James on his own experiences, and as James were expected not to speak. 

“Yes, James. Cake. I had pondered, while abroad, if I could bring my ice cream, cake, and liquors to more dinners such as this.” Thomas summed up with the clasping of his hands. James wondered why this topic needed such a formal and serious tone, as it just seemed to be Thomas rambling about his indulgent cravings. The smaller nodded slowly to what Thomas was saying, then returning to his plate.

The two sat there together, until James curiously broke the silence.

“Are you going to test these new plates on me on my ‘dysentery leave’, Mr. Jefferson?” James smiled knowingly, figuring out Thomas’ plan to treat him while he was down here. Thomas laughed and nodded, raising his glass of wine to his own lips and masking the grin that found its way onto his face. He didn't expect James, the shyer one, to speak up again.

But when he did, he only said one sentence. 

Confidently.

“Let us eat cake, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> I did not check this before I posted it I am sorry if there is any spelling errors or random things... oops... ":)


End file.
